


a predetermined outcome

by Anonymous



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M, implied yukisana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:49:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27162067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Renji draws the conclusion he wants.
Relationships: Kirihara Akaya/Yanagi Renji
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: Anonymous





	a predetermined outcome

**Author's Note:**

> for karen ♥

The difference between Renji and Sadaharu is that Sadaharu outputs percentages rather than predictions. He calculates the sum of his data and expresses his conclusions without bias; it must be admitted that Sadaharu's method is more transparent, albeit far less elegant. Renji, on the other hand, prefers to speak decisively. When a match ends, there are only winners and losers – and declaring before a full audience that _there is a fifty-one percent chance of this coin landing heads-up_ is a rather underwhelming statement to make.

Part of mastering a game is knowing oneself. Renji’s area of expertise lies in the unconscious speech patterns of his friends and rivals, in the hundreds of thousands of subtleties that make up a unique personality. This is the reason he can say, _page 307_ , before Akaya has even finished asked the question. It is a skill which allows him to live efficiently, and which provides him with time to adjust his estimations when a variable wanders out of the expected range.

Akaya, for instance, tends to perform as an outlier.

He is both frustratingly unfathomable and endearingly predictable – Renji knows his preferred style of play like the contours of his own body, but not even he can predict the heights that Akaya can reach with his potential. Akaya’s English vocabulary hovers at five-hundred and forty-two words, well below the average set by his peers; Renji worries that he will graduate still stretched out too far one way and not far enough the other, hurtling toward his passions with no regard for his own future. He writes up study plans for Akaya, notebook upon notebook of neatly-marked grammar points and blatant bribery coaxing him to turn to the next page.

Despite his complaints, Akaya works through each notebook carefully. He thanks Renji each time he completes one, the pink on his cheeks many shades sweeter than the angry crimson that paints his skin during tennis matches.

“Yanagi-senpai,” he begins, and Renji feels his own mouth begin to form words, like a reflex conditioned by the incessant ringing of a bell.

“Can we play a match,” he continues smoothly, “is what you were going to say.” Akaya sticks his lip eight millimetres out, which indicates that Renji’s surmisal was correct. “I believe the plan for today was to practice your footwork,” he tells Akaya, whose sullen expression indicates that he is already aware of this plan. “Ask Gen’ichirou if you would like to change it.”

As expected, Akaya’s shoulders stiffen. If Renji were to give a prediction, he would have guessed that Akaya would not pursue the matter further; to his surprise, his junior hesitates for only a moment before he stalks over to their vice-captain, voice breaking in the middle of his sentence when Gen’ichirou turns to glare at him for his request.

“Are you saying that you can do a better job of the training menu than Renji?” he asks, crossing his arms imperiously. Akaya cowers, but waves his hands in front of his face as if to ward off Gen’ichirou’s wrath.

“I’m not trying to mess with Yanagi-senpai’s training menu,” he whines, eyes darting to where Renji stands, observing their showdown. “It’s just that he’s been explaining it to the first years all week, and you promised me I could play one of you if I managed to increase the power of my smash, and I don’t think Yanagi-senpai _wants_ to waste his time with those useless first years either – ”

Gen’ichirou swells up like a balloon. “Do not underestimate your opponents!” he bellows. “ _Tarundoru!_ ”

Akaya’s lips quiver. The corners of his eyes redden. _He’s hurt_ , Renji realises, with a shock of concern. His mind picks apart each component of Akaya’s tense posture – his clenched fists, his tightened calves – and pieces them together with every interaction that Renji has had with him over the past week.

The conclusion, when it arrives, is as startling as it is expected. _He missed me_ , Renji thinks, with a warm, giddy rush of self-satisfaction. It is only the natural conclusion to a process that Renji himself had been the one to start, when he had reached out to Akaya after knocking him to the ground and offered to help him polish his technique. It would be irresponsible of Renji not to take ownership of Akaya’s current behaviour. He lets his gaze slide to Seiichi, who looks back at him with clear, understanding eyes.

Seiichi places his hand in the crook of Gen'ichirou's elbow, pressing his fingers into the soft skin there. "That's enough," he says, leaning too far into Gen'ichirou's personal space for comfort.

For one unwise moment, Gen'ichirou appears to consider the repercussions of shaking his arm free. Seiichi's smile grows sharper; his voice slices through the air like steel. "Sa・na・da."

Gen'ichirou jerks back as if stung, spluttering out a strangled dismissal before fleeing to the changerooms.

Seiichi tilts his head to the side thoughtfully. “I should probably – ”

“Go after him,” Renji finishes, a small smile wandering onto his lips. “Thank you.” He turns now again to Akaya, who is shifting his weight from one foot to the other, racket held tightly in the palm of his hand. _Adorable_ , Renji thinks, and taps his own racket against Akaya’s.

“Come on, then,” he tells him. “You wanted a game.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is really short but i'm putting it here because i didn't want to lose it...


End file.
